Now, Not Never
by Chirugal
Summary: I have no more wine, my playlist has finished and I wanna hear his voice. Gibbs/Abby, one-shot, complete.


**Title**: Now, Not Never  
**Rating**: FR-15/T  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Abby knows the phone call is a bad idea. She makes it anyway.

* * *

I've had a little too much to drink; a little too much time to think. And yeah, I'm quoting a Plastic Death song, but when I get drunk, I get nostalgic for the classics.

I got in from a night out with friends about an hour ago, and instead of going to bed I decided to chill out and listen to music for a while. And as song after song played, and I finished up the drinking session with a solo glass of red wine, my mind turned to… well, y'know.

Now I can't stop thinking about him. His smile, his eyes, that silver hair that really does make me tingle inside… And his hands. I could spend a lifetime thinking about his hands. The way they work wood, clean his gun, lie against my back as he hugs me close…

And his lips… well, if I start in on thinking about his lips I'll just melt into a pile of goo on the couch. Not that I'm not mostly there already.

Why doesn't he want me?

Sighing, I stare down at the cell phone in my hand. I know calling him is a really bad idea. It'll only make him uncomfortable around me, and I like comfortable-Gibbs. The Gibbs who kisses my cheek and brings me Caf-Pow! and listens to my problems.

But I have no more wine, my playlist has finished and I wanna hear his voice.

"Yeah, Gibbs." His voice is slightly rough, either with weariness or the afterburn of bourbon. Either way, it vibrates right through my body.

"Did I wake you?"

"Hey, Abbs." He's vaguely surprised to hear it's me. "You okay?"

"Don't worry, I'm not in mortal danger or stranded on the freeway or anything," I tell him. "I just… wanted to hear your voice."

"Been out drinking, huh?" he asks, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah. Been _in _drinking?"

I can just imagine him glancing over at the bourbon bottle that's sure to be nearby. His side of the connection is a little echo-y; he's in his basement. "Not as much as you've had, by the sounds of it."

"Hey!" I exclaim. "I drink in moderation most of the time… I'm a _responsible_ drinker. Sorta."

"Uh-huh," he says tolerantly. "Abbs, I think you should drink some water and go to sleep."

"But I wanna talk to you…"

"Yeah? What about?"

He waits, but all of a sudden, I'm tongue-tied. I knew I shouldn't have called him. I just don't know what to say. Okay, so I know what I _wanna_ say, but I can't say it.

"Abby. Now or never," Gibbs prompts.

Never? Never is bad. I mean, never means _never_. And I don't wanna keep this bottled up inside me for the rest of my life.

"I… want you."

A long silence, and then he sighs. "How much exactly _did _you drink tonight?"

Okay, that is _not_ cool! So I'm a little drunk. A lot drunk. But that doesn't change the facts, and for him to imply that it does... it wounds me. "Gibbs! Okay, I probably wouldn't have said it unless I was drunk, but that doesn't mean I don't want you when I'm sober!"

"You're not thinking clearly, Abbs." His voice is gentle, even though he's trying to brush me off, and the Gibbslike compassion just makes me want him more. And it makes me wanna cry, which I shouldn't do, cause then I'll look irrational and he'll just lose any respect he ever had for me.

"Okay, can you travel back in time to yesterday and tell me that, right before you smile and kiss me on the cheek and leave me completely turned on?"

"Abby…" It's a low growl, and I can almost sense the heat of his gaze behind it. Good to know that he's not completely immune to my charms, I guess. Provocative seems to work…

"Or maybe to last week, when I hugged you and our bodies fit together like they were made for each other?" I'm already in the hole, so I might as well dig myself in a little deeper. "Or the other night, when your face flashed into my mind when I was in the shower, and I–"

"Hell, Abbs." It's almost a mutter to himself, but it brings me up short. I wait, resting my head against the arm of the couch, closing my eyes and focusing on him; just him. But he doesn't say any more.

"I guess I'm not your type, huh?" Damn it! Stupid wine. Stupid phone. Stupid _me_, for believing that he'd ever–

"Putting words in my mouth, now?" I frown, trying to interpret the comment, but I can't get past the smile in his voice. Stupid wine… I'm usually better at reading him than this! Is he mocking me, or…?

"What…?"

"Lost count of the years I've wanted you. Never thought you felt that way too."

Oh my god. Is he humouring me? Does he really mean it? "Come over here," I whisper, my whole body aching to feel him against me.

"Not tonight, Abbs," he says softly.

"Because I'm drunk?"

"Partly. And partly because I'm over the legal driving limit."

"That's what taxis are for," I point out. I know he's not gonna reconsider tonight, because he's Gibbs, but it can't hurt to try.

"Sober up first, Abbs. Then we'll talk."

"Just talk?" Plaintive? Me?

"We'll see."

He ends the call, and I curl up around a cushion, too sleepy to do anything about my lustful impulses, just savouring them as they fade. If I wake up and this was all a dream, I'm gonna be _so_ pissed…

_END._


End file.
